


Bleeding Out

by AgentCodywolf



Series: Oh Mountain, My Mountain [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Lots of Angst, M/M, but eventually happy, crazy magic stuff, feels everywhere, sometime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCodywolf/pseuds/AgentCodywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Fading From This World. Bilbo has been laid to rest and the dwarves are finally home, in Erebor. But not all is what it seems. For the Lonely Mountain is an old mountain, standing through the passing of time since the before the First Age and she is waking. Never, ever, ever mess with the King of the Lonely Mountain because the Lonely Mountain knows what it feels like to be left brokenhearted and she does not wish that on anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Long ago, before the First Age, ancient beings roamed Middle Earth in the darkness before everything else. Their stories have been forgotten but they have not. They sleep, protecting the little ones they watched crawl into the light as it first decided to shine on the dark lands. As the Sun rose, warming the earth, the beings chose their final resting places, content to let others explore as they once had. Some did not get to where they wanted to be before the light created the unending sleep. One, the young Erabeth, was separated from her brothers by a vast distance. For many ages, she watched them from afar, captured beneath her mountain till one day, creatures crawled into her. She bore many gifts and finally she was no longer lonely. Her joy was so great she gave them her greatest gift, her heart. But her heart was too pure for these beings and it took them, burning their minds and taking away all sense. She watched her little ones destroyed by her heart and on the day the fire beast ripped through her, she vowed to never give her heart to another, hiding it within the rest of her gifts to be never found again. Until, a curious little creature stole into her. She was curious of the little thing and so decided to test him. He bore her heart and showed no ill effects. She watched as he tried to save her little ones and nearly fail. She did not want to see him broken like she was so she breathed out and aided him, protecting his loved ones. But he went far away, beyond her brothers to a land near her sisters. She could feel him, feel his life, his pain, his struggles. She wept when she felt him pass through those who had tried to destroy her family, but was overjoyed when he returned. Not to her, sadly, but to his home. To her cousins, in which one he rested now._ **

**_She wept the day he passed on. Surrounded by his loved ones, she could still feel his pain. Not only his, but that of one of her’s, the dear king. She felt his love, his longing and vowed to fix both of them. And so, for the last time, she opened her heart AND her soul and reached out. It was time she awakened and reminded the little ones of true love._ **

Bilbo passed away on a rainy summer day at the prime old age of 100, just days before his 101st birthday. He died in the company of royalty and friends, dwarves and hobbits and a wizard. He died in the arms of a true friend and what once might have been his lover. Many would say he died of old age. Some, closer to Bilbo and older than the more foolish of Bilbo’s family, would say he died because his broken heart had finally been mended. Bilbo would say he died because he had been ready for another adventure. But I am getting ahead of myself. For this isn’t the story of how Bilbo died. This is the story of how one Bilbo Baggins defied death all because of fate and the will of one very old and very powerful mountain.

Our story begins on a cold fall day, on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain, just a little ways from the gates of Erebor. It was a misty day, drizzle soaking everyone outside to the bone. A group of 13 ponies and one horse made their way up the muddy road, past the guards on duty and towards the giant stone doors between the two giant stone dwarrow guards. Heads bowed, shoulders hunched forward, these were not returning warriors in victory. These were men, old beyond their years, felling the defeat of a fallen comrade. To all of them, 100 years old was young, so many years lost. So many journeys and battles missed because a life was ended before its time. But Bilbo had lived well beyond his years. To hobbits, he was ancient and had a good life. Twas one of many differences between the races of Middle Earth.

Again, I am getting away with myself. The dwarves and wizard had buried the hobbit a few days after his passing in the company of his friends and family. Surprisingly, others from outside the Shire had come to celebrate the passing of Bilbo Baggins. Elrond and his house had arrived the night before, taking up residence in the woods not far from Bilbo’s house. Thraindruil and his house had arrived the morning of the funeral, solemn and in mourning for the little hobbit. Most surprising were the Rangers who had arrived just in time for the funeral, nodding to Gandalf and staying to the outside of the gathering. Expect for two. An older man, hair turning grey with his leather armor worn fitting him likes a second skin. Clinging to his hand was a young boy, a very young version of the older man. His eyes spoke of wisdom beyond his years, as well as the blade on his hip and the bow on his back. Elrond seemed to recognize them because he moved to stand by them during the ceremony.

The funeral was just as unique as old Bilbo Baggins. He was buried beneath the Mulberry tree where his father had proposed to his mother. Asphodel, Baby’s Breath and Jasmine marked the grave. Thorin, before they had left the Shire, had left a bouquet of red and purple tulips on the freshly dug earth. But on the day of the funeral, all that was laid on the grave was daisies and carnations. It was a solemn event, only the Thain speaking in grave tones. Everyone was wearing dark colors, women dabbing at their eyes, men blinking furiously. It was a small event compared to later in the day. Only immediate family and friends went to the funeral, but it seemed all of the Shire turned up for the meal served after. Well, actually, the party after the funeral. Hobbits not only mourn the passing of dear ones, but celebrated their lives. And celebrate they did. There was food, drink and dancing, just what Bilbo would have wanted. Well, the hobbits got that. The outsiders? Not so much. They sat at their own table, dwarves, elves and men. Solemn, drinking the pints placed before them. There’s was a silent table for a long time till old Hamfast plopped down by Dwalin and started telling a story of a young Bilbo Baggins and Farmer Maggot’s mushrooms. The rest of the night was spent telling stories of the Bilbo they all had known.

But that was many months ago and the dwarves were finally home, a wizard in tow. Waiting for them in between the now open gates was a female dwarf, arms folded over her chest, face stern. She bore a close resemblance to the king and princes. Behind her others stood, looking solemn. Thorin slowly dismounted, passing his pony off to a waiting stableman before slowly walking up to the female dwarf. She looked him over carefully, “None of you are hurt.”

“We are all as we were when we left,” Thorin answered, tone emotionless.

“That is a lie, brother, and everyone can see it,” there was no bite to her words, only worry. “The hobbit? You sent no word of him in your messages nor would the elves answer my questions.”

“He has passed on,” Thorin’s eyes drop. “It was a peaceful passing and he was surrounded by those who knew him best.”

“You were with him,” the female dwarf supplied.

“As I should have been for sometime,” Thorin growled.

“Come, brother, you are all tired. We will save this talk for another time,” the female dwarf laid a hand on Thorin’s arm. Thorin’s shoulders fell and he nodded.

“Another time,” Thorin sighed before side stepping his sister and heading past the crowd gathered. They moved aside quickly, knowing now was not the time to bother their king. The female dwarf looked at the others, raising an eyebrow. Balin sighed before following his king, waving Dwalin off.

“My Lady Dis, it has been too long,” Gandalf stepped forward, bowing to the she-dwarf.

“I wish it was on better terms,” Dis, the female dwarf curtsied back as the dwarves moved off, only Fili and Kili staying near.

“It was Bilbo’s last wish for me to watch over all of you till I saw you were all well. Among other things,” Gandalf nodded, looking troubled. “But something bothers you.”

“It can wait till we are all gathered once again,” Dis turned to a guard. “Let my brother’s company know supper will be served in my royal chambers in five hours time. Let the kitchens know as well. For now, I will show Gandalf to his quarters. If I or any of my kin are needed, you are to come to me first. Understood?”

“Yes, mi’lady,” the dwarf bowed before moving off. Dis nodded to herself before taking Fili’s offered arm and following Kili and Gandalf off into her kingdom. Yes, there was much to discuss, but hopefully it could wait. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, a new chapter! It only took me a few months to actually get it done but yeah......its done. Enjoy!

When we last left off, the dwarves had finally returned home. But it was not a happy homecoming in the least. Leaving behind a true friend buried beneath the green hills of the Shire, the dwarves return to their stone halls unknowing of the heartbreak waiting there for them. But also, unknown to all, the possibility of a happy ending.

Dis sat in the smallish dining hall within her quarters, patiently waiting for the company to arrive. She tapped her fingers, delicate for dwarves but just as strong as her brother’s, against the table, staring off into the distance. The room was lit by two high windows with a fireplace set between, which was blazing warmly to stave off the cold her brother’s return had brought to the mountain. No, the cold had come long before his return. The mountain was always cold, that was the way of mountains. This cold…this cold was something different. This cold was something of its own. It wasn’t always with her, though. She felt it most often in the throne room and in the royal wing, but sometimes in the library or wandering around the mountain. Yes, this cold wandered. It didn’t take hold of the whole mountain at one time; it came and went as it pleased. It wasn’t a horrible cold either. It didn’t bite at her bones or make her feel empty inside, wishing for a fire. It made her feel sad, it made her miss her brother and, most importantly, it made her think of an unknown pain, something deep inside her. Something that should have been there but now wasn’t, a phantom pain. All she knew for sure was it was all connected to her brother, her nephews and their company. Hopefully she would get her answers tonight.

The cold itself seemed to fill the whole room now, but the core of it was in the far corner, a presence too big yet too small. Its sadness today was spreading through the whole room now, though.

“Oh, cheer up, please,” Dis grumbled. “They’re back. You should be happy. Be warm for once. This cold is ridiculous.”

Oh, Aule, she was talking to the cold. This place had too many ghosts, she knew, but why had this one chosen to haunt her!

Just then the door opened and Balin and Dwalin came in. Dwalin looked around the room, pausing just inside the door but Balin headed straight for Dis, “My Lady.”

“Do not start with me, Balin. I’ve had enough of titles while you all were gone. We are equals so no titles!” she huffed.

“You’d think it would be warmer in here, with the two fires,” Dwalin walked over and plopped down in a chair, frowning.

“You would think,” Dis huffed. “But it is not so. Maybe the cold will follow one of you now and leave me in peace.”

“What?” the brothers spoke as one, looking at her with confused looks on their faces.

“I will explain when the others arrive,” Dis sighed, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

They sat in silence even as others entered, some shivering as they entered. They sat around the table, sipping away at their chosen beverage. Thorin was the last to enter, right behind her sons. All three looked so broken, so lost, it hurt. How important was this little hobbit? Important enough to break the king that had not been broken when he watched his kingdom burn, when he watched his grandfather’s head hacked off, when his father disappeared, when he found her cradling their brother’s lifeless body in the middle of the battlefield. He hadn’t broken when he had led his people over the land, working hard next to all of them. He hadn’t broken when he was forced to beg for aid, when he had been mocked and laughed at by others of lower status, when he had been called a fool for going on his blasted quest. He hadn’t broken when they’d all nearly died holding their newly won back home, when he had learned of the hobbit leaving them. But….she had seen the fissures start the day the packages had arrived from the Shire all those months ago. Oh, what a fool she had been.

“My Lady, not to be rude, but I am sure what must be discussed would best be discussed over warm food?” Gandalf spoke up softly from her left.

“Of course,” Dis nodded to the servant at the door and they quickly left. “What we must talk about is common knowledge among those in the royal quarters anyway. I’ve talked this over with many of the servants, seeing as they sometimes know the stories better than I.”

“Yet we know nothing of it,” Thorin growled. Oh dear, he was going to be a handful wasn’t he? “None of the servants have said a word to me.”

“That may be because I told them not to. You are in mourning, brother, you should have your peace,” Dis huffed as a soup was brought in. It was served in silence and the servants quickly left. They knew what could happen and didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.

“I am king, sister. You would do well to remember that,” Thorin hissed, glaring down the table at Dis.

“A king you may be, Thorin Oakenshield, but you are still my little brother,” Dis pointed her spoon at him. “It is my duty to look out for your wellbeing. And this…. This is something very new and very strange or very old and very terrifying.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Thorin huffed, looking slightly cowed at least.

“As you all may have noticed, there is a significant temperature change between the hallway and my quarters. I am going to assume that your quarters also felt colder than normal?” Dis looked around the table, getting a few nods. “Something has taken up residence in the royal wing and the throne room, although it has been known to wander, though not far and normally it follows me or my servants. Before you draw swords, it has not harmed anyone nor do I think it intends to.”

“And how do you know that it is a thing and that it means no harm?” Gandalf looked a little fascinated. He looked sharply down at his arm, frowning before looking back up at Dis.

“Because it just touched you,” Dis sighed. “It’s a small presence yet a large one at the same time. We first noticed it the day the Arkenstone stopped shining.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Previously**

**_“As you all may have noticed, there is a significant temperature change between the hallway and my quarters. I am going to assume that your quarters also felt colder than normal?” Dis looked around the table, getting a few nods. “Something has taken up residence in the royal wing and the throne room, although it has been known to wander, though not far and normally it follows me or my servants. Before you draw swords, it has not harmed anyone nor do I think it intends to.”_ **

**_“And how do you know that it is a thing and that it means no harm?” Gandalf looked a little fascinated. He looked sharply down at his arm, frowning before looking back up at Dis._ **

**_“Because it just touched you,” Dis sighed. “It’s a small presence yet a large one at the same time. We first noticed it the day the Arkenstone stopped shining.”_ **

**Continuing On**

“What do you mean? The Arkenstone stopped shining?” Balin’s horrified voice broke the silence like a wrecking ball.

“Exactly what I’m saying,” Dis huffed. “The once bright, glowing heart of our mountain now sits in its seat of honor, as dim as an ordinary gem we’ve dug up.”

“How can that be?” Thorin looked horrified.

“Well, now, there are many explanations for this sort of thing,” Gandalf chuckled as he took a sip of his soup. “Oh, this is very good. Could I get the recipe from the cook? Good soup is hard to find on the road, but ingredients are not.”

“Of course. I will ask her for it,” Dis nodded, smiling a little. “She also has a stew version of this if you would like that as well.”

“Dis,” Thorin growled. “Gandalf, we have more important to discuss.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Gandalf nodded. “I for one would like to hear about these servants’ stories.”

“They have all manner of ideas,” Dis frowned. “Ghosts of old kings walking amongst us now, the very soul of the mountain rejoicing in the return of her children, the Arkenstone itself being some sort of spirit creature.”

“All good guesses, but not quite,” Gandalf looked around the room. “It has been sometime I have had the honor of dealing with the Old Ones. Wonderful manners, but watch their tempers. They can be quite…..volcanic in nature.”

“Old Ones?” Ori frowned. “I’ve heard that before.”

“I am sure you have, as well as Balin, but only in passing. Possible in a manuscript of one of the first scribes for the King Under the Mountain, discussing a delightful evening between some Elf Prince and the King. Only in passing, mind you, but it was enough to peak my interest. Elrond was quite well versed in the Old Ones, but he sent me directly to the source many decades ago,” Gandalf nodded. “Lovely old fellow, quite like the Ents, only a little bit faster in his speech. He answered my questions, eventually. Was also highly concerned about his sister, but there was not much I could do about that other than promise to bring him news from time to time on how she was handling her little ones.”

“This is all fascinating, really,” Dis interrupted. “But what is an Old One? And what does it have to do with the Arkenstone not shining anymore?”

“Oh, everything!” Gandalf laughed. “You understood a little when you named the Arkenstone the Heart of the Mountain. For that little stone is the part of the true heart of this very mountain. Also, Erebor is, from my understanding, very close to her real name. I would have to ask her to make sure, of course. There is a connection to her and this spirit flitting around the mountain, make no mistake of it.”

“Who are you talking about?” Dwalin huffed.

“Why, her,” Gandalf gestured to the corner. They all turned and saw nothing. Gandalf huffed, “Oh, come on, dear, you have something to say and are causing some sort of trouble. Show yourself to the mere mortals.”

There was a sound like a sigh from the corner before the air shifted and the rock wall made a sound like it was cracking. Out of what seemed to be a tear in the rock stepped a woman. The fabric of her dress seemed to be made of marble but it shifted like silk. Her skin shimmered like diamonds but had a more pink color to it. Her eyes were as green as emeralds and her hair was like well-polished granite. Her ruby lips parted to reveal pearl teeth and no tongue, “Stone friend, Grey One, I greet you.”

“Stone mother, Old One, I greet you,” Gandalf stood and bowed his head. She graced him with a small, crystal smile before turning to the others.

“Oh, dear ones, precious stones, I welcome you home,” she smiled fondly at them.

Thorin blinked unsure before standing and bowing, “Thank you, mi’lady, but I do not understand.”

“You do not understand a lot of things, young one. Or should you be foolish one. Hearts are tender things, not to be played with,” she huffed. “You’ve learned that lesson better than your sire and his sire, but still. Love. You young ones view it so differently. You’re lives, so short, that must be it. When you live as long as myself, you’ll understand how important love is and family, and the really important lessons. All you think about is greed and wealth and who has the bigger prick. You and those elves. You’d think they would learn, but noooooo. Just as stupid as you lot and at least you have the excuse of being from the rocks around you. Elves? An entirely different matter. Younger than myself but have still seen so much. Yet as stupid as those humans that wander around willy-nilly. Those hobbits across my brothers and near my cousins, brilliant they are. Got it right. Good food, good friends, one love. Oh, some of them are thick, but not much I can do about that. It’s that ground over there. Too rich in some places. Gets some weird thoughts from time to time. But they have it right most of the time. True happiness is in loving your family and loving your one. You lose that and what are you? Nothing. Remember that.”

“My dear, I think we must start simpler,” Gandalf chuckled in the shocked silence that followed her rant. “Might we know your true name, since you have been so kind to share your very self with us for rest and home.”

Some of the dwarves looked horrified at this statement, but she seemed unphased, “You already know it, Wise One, but you have too much bouncing around in that head of yours. Organize your thoughts, sir.”

“He may know, mi’lady, but we do not,” Dis spoke up. “May we be honored with the knowledge of your name?”

“I like you,” she laughed. “So full of life. We are very similar, you and I. We care for the others in this mountain, but in very different ways. Because of that, I will tell you my name as well as why I have chosen now to awaken. My name is Erabeth and I here because of the one named Bilbo Baggins.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Bilbo Baggins is dead, Lady Erabeth,” Gandalf finally spoke through the eternity of silence that followed the mysterious being’s words. “I was there when he passed on.”

“You know better than anyone, Wizard, that it is never that simple,” Erabeth huffed. “Really, you think I would let that poor creature suffer through eons with those snippety elves in the other world? Or cast him out to deal with those confounded dwarves in their hallowed halls? No, definitely alone. So I kept him with me!”

“You kept him with…you?” Balin breathed out. “That…how? That can’t be!”

“The presence…” Dis gasped, covering her mouth.

“I knew there was a reason you were always my favorite, even when you just a little pebble. Well, you still are a pebble, but a little bigger now,” Erabeth smiled fondly.

“You just…. kept Bilbo Baggins like some kind of pet?” Thorin’s voice cut through the room like the crack of a balrog’s whip. All eyes turned to the King Under the Mountain, the tension in the room thickening drastically. Thorin was standing, somehow unnoticed till now. He gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles, his eyes sparkling with anger as they glared daggers at the woman. His lips twisted into a snarl, “You thought to make him a toy? To drag him around, parade him like a preforming monkey? Use him to make us all suffer because we have not suffered enough!?”

“Never, King Thorin,” Erabeth’s face grew dark. “You are one of my children. I have protected you for years, for decades, for centuries. I watched you crawl over the ground before you found sanctuary in me. I would not have allowed it if I did not think your people was something special. I allowed you all those gifts. I thought you were special enough to guard my very heart, but I was wrong. I was angry with you, with all of you that I let the dragon enter, I let him inside of me, but he was not you. He would never be. I planned on slipping away, falling into the abyss that has been calling my kind since the first dawn. But then the most extraordinary thing happened. This little speck of dust followed you, my sons, across all of Middle Earth to rescue me from the beast. He wavered often, but he never backed down. He worked his way into your lives until you couldn’t see it existing without him. I decided to test him, to see if he was worthy by giving him my heart. He never thought of keeping it, never bore a dark thought because of it. He only thought of using it to keep all of you safe. And for that you turned on him, hated him, just like you all had turned on me. But he did not let that stop him loving you, any of you and I understood then. And I brought him back here, to rest for a while before you and him were ready.”

“Ready for what?” Thorin ground out.

“Ready to be together, of course!” Erabeth threw up her hands. “Dwarves!”

“That is not possible! HE DIED!” Thorin roared. “He is gone! Forever! You cannot just bring someone back from the dead!”

“Well, you can’t and neither than I, but who says that Bilbo was ever really dead?” Erabeth shrugged. “I just moved his soul from his old body into a new one.”

“Do you find this funny?” Gandalf stepped in as Thorin fumed, at a loss as to how to react. On one hand, he could have Bilbo back. On the other, what would it cost his hobbit or himself or his family?

“I do not! Love is no laughing matter. What I am doing here is righting a great wrong!” Erabeth seemed to shimmer before their eyes as the very room shook. “YOU should be thanking ME!”

“Thanking you? Thanking YOU? Do you know what you have done? We are not meant to live past our time! What sort of price will Bilbo have to pay now? What price will I have to pay? You do not play with death!” Thorin’s hand went for his sword, but another hand gripped his, stopping him. He followed the pale, almost translucent hand up to where it connected with an arm, then a shoulder, then a neck, then a very familiar jaw line. His eyes continued further up, over lips a grey shade of pink, over sunken cheeks and sharp cheek bones to those eyes. Those sunken eyes, seeing to shine out of holes as deep as the deepest mines of Moria. Bruised flesh surrounded those eyes….oh those eyes! Thorin remembered when they had shown with their own light. Now, the pale blue eyes were empty, staring right through him.

“Bilbo,” Thorin gasped, eyes never leaving his hobbit.

“Thorin…….Thorin, are you there?” it sounded as though Bilbo was calling from a great distance. “Thorin….please….please be there….Its so cold……I don’t…..help me…..please…..stop it…….stop this………don’t be….don’t be dead…..so cold……”

“What have you done to him!?” Gandalf was the one yelling fury now. “You are messing with the lives of mortals, Lady Erabeth, and these are lives you know nothing about! You cannot just pull souls around as you please!”

“Its not my fault the hobbit is so stubborn,” Erabeth huffed. “He was not coming willingly. Can’t they see I’m just trying to help! They deserve a little happiness, do they not!”

“They had their happiness the few days they had together before Bilbo passed. They found their peace!”

“My children were sad! They were suffering! I was not going to allow it to continue!”

“They were in mourning! It is the right of all beings to mourn! You should know this only too well!”

“YOU WATCH YOUR TONE, EARTH WALKER!” Erabeth roared as the whole mountain shook. “I CONTROL THIS MOUNTAIN AND ALL WHO WALK IN IT! I CAN DESTROY YOU EASILY!”

“You say you love these beings, but you threaten them! You hurt them! You punish them for things they cannot control!” Gandalf was not backing down as the dwarves clung to each other. Thorin reached out to Bilbo, but his hands went through the hobbit.

“Thorin! What’s happening?! Please! Help me!” Bilbo cried out, trying to grab the dwarf as he started to fade away.

“You release Bilbo this instance! Let him go and leave this mountain in peace! Follow your brothers into the beyond!” Gandalf roared. Erabeth screamed at the top of her lungs, the walks cracking, the table snapping in half like a twig as she lunged forward, her diamond hands turning to claws as she reached for the hobbit.

“If I am denied happiness, then SO SHALL ALL OF YOU!”


	5. Chapter 5

“NO!” Thorin roared as he lunged forward, his elven blade slamming down onto her outstretched hands. Thorin knew his blade would do nothing more than stop her hands, but he had to protect Bilbo, even if he really wasn’t there. To his surprise and the surprise of everyone else, the blade sliced through Erabeth’s wrists with ease and she jerked back, staring down at her hands.

“How?” she looked from wrists up at Thorin, who had placed himself between her and ghost-Bilbo.

“He wields an elven blade, forged eons ago when the elves battled the things that crawled from your womb. It would only make sense that it could harm you as well as it harmed your true children,” Gandalf stepped forward, staff pointed at Erabeth. “Let Bilbo Baggins go and leave, Erabeth. Follow your brothers and go to your new home. The way of these mortals are not your ways and never will be. You cannot stop them from dying.”

“I was trying to make them happy,” Erabeth snapped. “Just like I tried to make my first children happy, but those blasted elves killed them!”

“Because you made them cruel and bitter, just like you were. Your happiness is much different than the happiness of these mortals. Go, Erabeth, before I change my mind,” Gandalf growled.

“And what do you think you can do to me?” Erabeth snarled as her hands started to grow back.

“You know who I am, Erabeth, you know what I am capable of,” the room seemed grow darker as Gandalf’s scowl deepened. “And if you kill me or the dwarves in this mountain, others will come and destroy you.”

“This is my mountain!” Erabeth screeched.

“It has not been your mountain for years,” Thorin growled. “You let the dwarves in and they claimed it as their own. You have been doing nothing but serving us since. This is your mountain? Then we should be serving you. But it is too late for that. I will not allow you to be among my people and I will not let you harm any of my company. Leave this mountain and never return.”

“This is my home! I made it! You can’t do this to me!” Erabeth’s flashed red and she took a step towards Thorin.

“Its not your home!” Bilbo rushed through Thorin and slammed into Erabeth, throwing her back against the wall. “You do not love it here, you’ve told me that! I know who you are now, I remember you! You took me away! You have no right to enslave me in this mountain with you! I am a Hobbit of the Shire and you know nothing of what we need! I will not be your pet!”

“But…you were so happy with me,” Erabeth reached out to Bilbo, claws turning back into fingers. “Don’t you remember?”

“I remember the dark and the cold. I remember feeling empty. I remember dying all over again,” Bilbo snarled. “Let me go!”

“NO! You are mine just as the dwarves are mine!” Erabeth snarled, lunging forward. Bilbo turned away, covering his face as Erabeth’s claws slashed at him. A green light erupted between them and Erabeth was thrown back.

“Foolish child. You know better than to mess with my children. To claim them as your own is your folly,” A deep, feminine voice echoed around them as they all covered their eyes at the bright light.

“NO! I’ve been good! DON’T TAKE ME BACK!” Erabeth screamed.

“You have stayed too long. It is time to return. I will right your wrongs, child, while you learn the errors of your ways,” the voice stayed neutral as the light brightened before there was an explosion of heat, sending dwarves and furniture alike flying to the outer edges of the room. It took a few minutes, but eventually there was movement in the room. Obviously, it was Gandalf who sat up first.

“My, I don’t remember Yavana being so feisty,” he rubbed his head, looking around. “Is everyone alright?”

A symphony of grunts and groans answered him and he couldn’t hold back a chuckle, “You all should be happy. You survived your first encounter with one of the Oldest Old Ones.”

“I don’t enjoy your humor, Gandalf,” Balin groaned as he pushed himself up. “That crazy woman took things too far.”

“Aye, she did, brother,” Dwalin moved over by his brother, concerned. Other families were checking on each other. Gandalf looked over each group but frowned when he found one missing from the Line of Durin. Where was...”Thorin.”

Thorin looked up at his name, cradling the still form carefully, “He breathes, wizard, but only so. What price has this cost him?”

“None, if Yavana truly has stepped in,” Gandalf quickly moved over, pressing a hand gently to Bilbo’s forehead. He was colder than the old man would have liked, but that was to be expected. He didn’t look a day over 55, but he was far from healthy. Too thin by any standards and his face was sunken, bruises accenting his eyes, “With her blessing, he will heal in time. He is, after all, actually one of her children.”

“So this really happened? All of it?” Dis spoke up from where the dwarves had gathered round.

“Sadly it has, but not completely sad. We have gotten Bilbo back, haven’t we?” the wizard looked over his old friend.

“We’ll get him settled in your bed so Oin can look him over,” Dis nodded, smoothing out her dress. “Get moving, the lot of you! We have work to do!”

“What work?” Balin asked fearfully.

“We have a hobbit living with us. I want one of the terraces cleared and prepared for a garden. He’ll need sunlight! And another set up so in the winter he can still get sun. I want this place to feel homie, not like a brick!” Dis started herding everyone out, winking back at her brother. Thorin gave a small smile at her as she closed the door, leaving him, Gandalf and Bilbo alone.

“They’re gone, Bilbo, its alright,” Gandalf chuckled.

“Oh thank sweet Eru,” Bilbo breathed out, opening his eyes as Thorin pulled him into a tight hug. “One dwarf is enough right now.”

“I can see that,” Gandalf chuckled.

“You feel alright?” Thorin pulled away, looking Bilbo over.

“For the most part. Really sore, cold and tired, though,” Bilbo examined his hand. “I’m younger.”

“I think I’ll stay a while, just to make sure everything is staying as it should be,” Gandalf nodded to himself. “Be around in case of any weddings or the like.”

Both Bilbo and Thorin glared at him.


End file.
